The Entropy Wars
by Freddo
Summary: As the alt-reality Visions saga draws to a close, brother fights against brother in the year 2231 as an old evil rises one last time to vex the veterans of the Star Force and their children and causes a terrible new space war; and a Civil War on Earth.
1. Chapter 1

**ALTERNATE TALES OF THE STAR FORCE **

**STAR BLAZERS—THE ENTROPY WARS**

**By: Frederick P. Kopetz**

With the Cooperation and Assistance of Derek A.C. Wakefield

**CHAPTER ONE: THE LITTLE FOXES**

**I. ON OUR WAY HOME…**

**Space Battleship **_**Argo**_

**The Vicinity of Beemira**

**Monday: May 16, 2231**

**1500 Hours: Earth Standard Space-Time**

The Universe expands to infinity. Worlds lived and worlds died in the vastness of the galaxies, but for a long time now, the Local Group of Galaxies had mostly been at peace.

It was now the year 2231.

Except for some incursions by the still-hostile R'Khells, and their allies, the forces of Spectra, the Earth Federation had been at peace for nearly twenty-three years since 2208.

Under the constant vigilance of the Earth Defense Forces and the continued cooperation of the Iscandarians, Pellians, Rikashans, and Gamilons, Earth's society had grown and expanded.

Earth now had colonies on Mars (which was almost Terraformed now), Titan (also Terraformed), Pluto (thanks to its artificial sun, Invidia), Centaurus, Barnard, Alpha Sirius V, Arcturus, Beemira, a base on Balan shared with the Gamilons, and their base and colony of New Fiji Island on Iscandar.

What forces Earth knew of from House Gatlantis and the Black Fox Nebula had troubled them little in the past twenty-four years since Radnar and Desslok had made their compact at the time of the signing of the Treaty of San Diego in 2207. Earth had no formal relations with those two interstellar nations or the rest of the Cometines, but Earth had really had very little contact with them in the past twenty-four years except for a few times in which their ships had been seen in the space now occupied by the expanding Earth Federation. What contacts Earth had had with the Cometines came indirectly through Leader Desslok, who was, on top of all of his other titles, the official "Prince" of House Gatlantis now, but, in reality, Radnar ran most of the affairs of his House apart from Desslok's counsel or oversight. The Black Nebulans, on the other hand, were their own House of the Cometine Empire now, and they were regarded as the potential Prime Enemy for Earth and Gamilon in the future.

However, what Earth didn't know was that their newest enemy was another old enemy; an enemy who slept in their very midst.

An enemy who even now, was on the _Argo_ herself, unknown, and unseen by his friends and enemies.

An enemy who most people thought was a friend…

An enemy that most people thought was sleeping or dead…

An enemy who had been making his vile plans in secret for the past twenty-three years…

"Usual report," said the _Argo's_ current Acting Captain as he sat with his hands steepled together on the worn but still-familiar Captain's desk on the _Argo's_ First Bridge; a place where he had sat many times throughout the years; a place that felt just like home to him.

The Combat Group Leader and acting First Officer of the ship, Captain Jonathan Hartnell-Wildstar, a young man with a mop of now chestnut-brown hair who was the top-ranking graduate of the Class of 2216 at the Space Fighters' Training School, came to attention in his blue peacoat and cap and said, "Sir, at fifteen hundred hours, Sixth Fleet remains gathered together here at Beemira to act as your escort home. No unusual activity reported, Admiral."

"I trust that the Black Tigers are on patrol?"

"Yessir," said Hartnell-Wildstar.

"Who's out there leading them?"

"Alex, sir."

"Hmm," nodded the _Argo's_ skipper…and the current commander of both the Sixth (Colonial) Fleet and the Combined Fleet of the Earth Defense Forces. "Explain that in more military terms, please."

"Sir, to be more precise, Senior Lieutenant Wildstar is on patrol leading the first squadron of the Black Tigers."

"Which ships are at station at our flanks?" said the _Argo's_ skipper as he pierced Jonathan with his steely eyes.

_Is this a test, Dad?_ Jonathan thought irritably as the aft starboard bridge hatch whizzed open. A figure in white came in and adjusted her glasses as her long Medical lab coat flapped above her bare knees below the hem of her tunic.

"All right," said Jonathan. "The space battleship _California_ is at our starboard flank, and the space battleship _Volgograd_ is abaft a little to port. Peacetime formation, sir. They're just taking routine scans."

"Skippers of those ships?"

"Sir, Captain Tatiana Lubyanska is in command on the _Volgograd_, and Captain Deke Wakefield is in command on the _California_."

"Commander of the second ranking space battleship of the Sixth Fleet, Captain?"

"Commodore Mark Venture on the _Arizona_, sir. Is that enough?"

"Nice job. I just like to know who's got my back," said the _Argo's_ skipper. He then turned his head to starboard to hear a woman who was about his age (fifty-three; he was now fifty-two) clearing her throat. "Nova, what are _you_ doing up here?"

"Checking things out, Derek," said Captain Nova Wildstar MD as she grinned at her husband. "You're quizzing the _Argo's_ Skipper again? You're insufferable."

"Malarkey, Doctor. As the Commander of the Combined Fleet of the Earth Defense Forces, I can pretty much run my flagship the way I like as long as I have my flag on board. I'm not saying he's not doing a good job…"

"Let's not do that," said Nova.

"I'm just…checking on things."

"Good. Well so am I, Derek…"

"Not bad…carry on," said Admiral Wildstar as he raised the visor of his cap a little.

"Captain Wildstar," said the young woman who sat at the _Argo's_ cosmo-radar now. "Something's on our course; approaching from starboard; range, twenty megameters, speed, twelve space knots. It came up from Beemira."

"Good identification, Miss Wakefield," said Derek as Nova went over to look at how Junior Lieutenant Star Wakefield was running the radar as the _Argo's_ new Living Group Leader. "Not bad," she said. "Derek, looks like a Beemiran ship. Or, rather, a Gamilon shuttle held together with chewing gum and baling wire. It's a dirty grey color, and it looks like it's just barely flying. It's coming from the southern lowlands of the planet; the part we never explored much of."

"Hail them, Aaron," said Derek.

"Yessir," said Lieutenant Aaron Glitchman, the son of Homer and Wendy Glitchman. "Unidentified spacecraft. This is the _Argo!_ You are approaching the outer limits of our defensive zone. Will you identify yourself, _over_?"

The bridge doors to the port side of Admiral Wildstar's station whizzed open as a Space Marine officer sauntered onto the deck. He was Colonel Gary Maples, the current acting commander of both the _Argo's_ Marine Group and the One Hundred and Forty-Ninth Special Marine Group, a rapid-response Group under his direct command as the commanding officer of the EDF Special Services Group.

SS Marines were the elite of the elite; Marines who were crack killers and whose uniforms were invariably black. Maples' current shipboard uniform was all black except for his small subdued gold anchor and green markings on black at his collar and shoulders.

The taciturn officer nodded at Wildstar from behind his dark glasses; Derek just nodded back at him. While his path to command had been greased by his undisputed heroism near the end of the Second Cometine War in 2207, there was something about this officer (who had largely lost his former good-old-boy accent) that creeped Derek (and Nova) out.

"They're not identifying themselves, Admiral?" said Maples.

"No," said Derek.

"Then maybe we should take some target practice," grinned Maples as he reached into one of the copious hip pockets of the uniform he wore and touched the crystal Sphere he carried everywhere. It gave him comfort, and, better for him, no one knew of its true purpose.

"They're upset enough at us," said Wildstar. "We don't need to incite them more. Besides, give them time to reply. Our large space fleet probably scares them somewhat."

"Maybe it _should_ scare them," said Maples. "They're nothing but a bunch of primitives and savages. I wonder why we don't just _act_ like an Empire and crush them."

"You know," said Nova as she tapped her sandaled foot against the deck and played with the stethoscope around her neck. "That's not the way we act. Captain Avatar never would have approved of someone on this bridge talking like that, _Colonel,_" said Nova as she gestured at the metal plaque depicting Captain Avatar that hung above her husband's head.

"Avatar's dead, Doctor. This is a new age. And you're too soft," sneered Maples. "You don't even have a regulation space suit on, for one thing.."

"I'm fine like this," huffed Nova as she crossed her still-coltish legs.

"_Enough_, you two," snapped Derek. "Glitchman. Did they respond to your hails yet?"

"No, sir," said Glitchman.

"Maybe they're having mechanical problems, Captain," said Lieutenant Commander Kanye Parker, the First Star Force's current Mechanical Group Leader. By now, Star had gotten a visual. "That ship looks pretty beat-up," he said.

"Yeah, it's not their fault if their radio isn't working," said Commander Diane Henson-Sandor from Engineering. "And if Steve wasn't back in the Megalopolis, he'd agree with me, Derek."

"Sandor is a very logical man," piped up IQ-9 from his post at Analysis. "Far more logical than Doctor Wildstar. After thirty-two years, I still haven't figured out how her illogical brain works yet."

"Thanks a lot, _Tinwit_," huffed Nova.

"They're hailing us," said Glitchman.

"How nice," said Commander Jordy Venture a little sarcastically from his big brother's old post at Navigation.

"Here we go again," smiled Lieutenant Miguel Castaneda, the young man who was the _Argo's_ new Assistant Pilot.

"People, would you cut that out? I'm putting the message up on the speakers, Captain," said Glitchman.

"Hello, Star Force humans," said a somewhat slurred-sounding voice through a wall of static. "I am Lianas, Shaman of the Third Hive from the far South. Queen Belinda sends me with greetings and with a warning for you."

"This is Admiral Derek Wildstar, Commanding Officer of the Combined Fleet of the Earth Defense Forces and Acting Commander of the First Star Force and the _Argo_ at the request of Commanding General Hiram Charles Singleton of Earth. What is your warning, _over_?"

"Bad omens. Omens for you. Omens for Earth. And I wish to make an appeal to you in person, sir. You have a reputation as a man who gets problems fixed."

"All right; are you requesting a meeting?"

"Yessir," said Lianas. "I want to come to the _Argo_."

"Okay," said Nova. "We'd better make sure he's clean, first. We never thoroughly surveyed the part of the planet he came from; God knows what kind of bugs he's carrying up here."

"He's _vermin_, don't let him come aboard," muttered Maples in Wildstar's ear.

"Belay that, Colonel," muttered back Wildstar. "Nova and Miss Wakefield. Meet him below in the main hangar bay and you two and Ariel are to see to his decontamination. Then bring him up to our cabin."

"Yessir," said Nova with a brisk nod. "Star, let Mister Castaneda take your post."

"Of course," said the young woman, who bore a striking resemblance to her still-young looking mother, Commander Sasha Wakefield, who was now the XO of the _California_. Star then got up and began to follow Nova off the bridge.

"Captain Hartnell-Wildstar, you have the conn," said Derek as he adjusted his cap and left. "Keep watching that ship, Jon."

"Yessir," said Jonathan to his adoptive father. He nodded as Derek left.

"Well, people, back to the usual," said Jonathan.

"Good," said Junior Lieutenant Robert Jordan as he adjusted his glasses at Artillery. His father, Dashell "Dash" Jordan, was now the skipper of the space battleship _Nagato_, which also served with Sixth Fleet. "I mean, your dad's a good guy and all, Jon, but…"

"Yeah, I know," said Jonathan. "Little overbearing at times." Then he grinned.

**II. VOTE OF CONFIDENCE…**

**Earth**

**The Tokyo Megalopolis**

**Parliament House**

**Monday: May 16, 2231**

**1600 Hours: Earth Standard Space-Time**

On Earth, the venerable (and now 83-year old) Commanding General of the Earth Defense Forces, Hiram Charles Singleton, sat drumming his fingers on his desk as he listened to Parliament going through a vicious debate in Joint Session.

"So?" said Prime Minister Tracy Davidson, the third Prime Minister appointed by the increasingly shaky government of President Harrison Kueller. "That's what you think of our latest legislative program?"

"Yes, more of the same," barked Senator Egon Leslie from Euroland (Austria, to be precise). "We have had enough of your spending. Too much for Terraforming…"

"Your pardon. We need to finish stabilizing Mars. It was nowhere near as easy to stabilize as Titan and Pluto were…."

"We need a more aggressive posture," said Leslie.

"Against _whom_?" said Davidson.

"Some people have thought, sir, that maybe it is about time we dealt with the festering problem of the R'Khells and their allies by offensive action. By open attacks on their territory. We need to stop this Soecial Forces crap and just attack them."

"A course against which both Rikasha and Gamilon have advised we should not take?" snapped Davidson.

"Precisely," said Senator Karl Forrester from North America. "Those powers are closer to the situation than even we have been. They have let us know that more R'Khell worlds each year are asking to become free or join the Rikashan or Gamilon spheres of influence. How much money would it cost to administer more new colonies?"

"We can take it out of them by subduing them, Forrester," said Leslie as others muttered behind him. Some began to applaud.

"You're saying that you'd become like the empires we've fought and actually begin _enslaving_ people?" said Forrester.

"Why not?" huffed Representative Victoria Samuelson, from Anglia. "For years, we have been slowly turning into an empire. We have colonies. We have virtually put the Beemirans under our thumb. Imperialism can be profitable! Why not begin striking at other worlds to begin assuring the peace of space through strength? It would help us in the long run, old man!"

"We _work_ with Empires," said Senator Beecham, a Senator from the Hawaiian Region. "Why not _become_ one ourselves?"

"Let us vote on Davidson's Government!" yelled one Senator. "Maybe it's time to change it…"

""I second this," said Leslie.

"Let's get a new Government!" yelled someone else.

Prime Minister Davidson bowed his head and sat in silence as the votes began to come in a few minutes later.

And, about forty-five minutes later, a bare majority (355-340, with five abstentions) had voted Davidson down as Prime Minister, and left President Kueller banging the gavel as Acting Prime Minister as he knew that, yet again, he would have to pick a new Prime Minister.

_How much longer_, thought Singleton as Parliament left. _How much longer until the Government stops fighting and finally appoints my successor? The man I've recommended twice? I'm old…I'm tired, and I don't like what we're becoming anymore. We need a new man in my post, someone who can be the conscience of Earth like I've been…before it is too late._

Singleton felt a special reason for wanting to move on as he leaned on his cane and left Parliament House.

He didn't have long to live, and he knew it.

It was space radiation sickness.

It had gotten him…at long last.

**III. A VOICE FROM THE PAST**

**Space Battleship **_**Argo**_

**The Vicinity of Beemira**

**Monday: May 16, 2231**

**1600 Hours: Earth Standard Space-Time**

"So what's going on?" said Senior Lieutenant Alex Wildstar as he leaned against his Cosmo Tiger III, an upgraded version of the original Cosmo Tiger design that was still in service. Alex was now twenty-three years old, and had served with a variety of squadrons before being given his first squadron command, that of the famous Black Tigers itself. At twenty-three, he was close to the spitting image of his father at that age, save for the fact that his hair hung a bit more in his right eye like Captain Jefferson Hardy's did.

"Looks like we got a _situation_ of some type, mate," said Wildstar's second squadron leader, his classmate and fast friend Lieutenant Richard Clive Hartcliffe. "And not a nice one, either…"

"A situation," said Alex. "I like that."

"So what's the Old Man doin' on board ship, anyway, again?" said Hartcliffe.

"That diplomatic junket to Iscandar and Gamilon," sighed the younger Wildstar. "The President felt he had to be in personal command. And since when all of Sixth Fleet is together, the _Argo_ is always the ceremonial flagship…"

"When was the last time the Old Man was aboard this ship anyway?"

"Five years ago, before he took command of Second Fleet, and before he took command of Combined Fleet. We had just gotten recognized then, remember?"

"Yeah, I wasn't thinkin' straight that May…all I wanted to do was quit salutin' the bloody upperclassmen who were raggin' me because I was the son of a Star Force member; namely, me dad Clive," said Richard. He knew the sad life story of his original father Bryan, who was lond-dead and barely spoken of in the Hartcliffe household. For all he cared, his true father was his mother's second husband, Clive, who had married his mother in June of 2208 some weeks after his father Bryan's death in prison.

"I had it worse than _you_ did," said Alex. "Because of my Dad and _my_ Mom."

"Hey, here comes the shuttle," said Hartcliffe as he punched Wildstar in the arm.

Alex and Rich watched as the Beemiran's battered ship, an old surplus Gamilon shuttle that looked like it had seen better days, came to a landing in the _Argo's_ main flight bay.

As soon as the engines stopped, IQ-9 and Star Wakefield trundled up followed by Doctor Nova Wildstar, in her spacesuit, and by a young woman with delicate features and luxuriant eyelashes who looked much like her; Alex nodded to his fraternal twin sister Ariel Wildstar as she smiled back at her brother. Ariel and Star were also both in full space gear in the white and red of Medical Group and the gold and black of Living Group.

"You two make sure he gets sealed in the decontamination unit," said Nova to Ariel and Star. "Just to be safe. We're not that familiar with the microbes he might be carrying yet."

"Aye, aye, Ma'am," they said in chorus as they pushed the decontamination unit into the ship.

A few minutes later, the two of them emerged with a very old Beemiran.

"How is he?" said Nova as she looked into the capsule at him.

"Not in the best of shape, Mom," said Ariel. "He's dying, as a matter of fact. He maybe…has an hour or two left…clean of microbes, at least…"

Nova took a very deep breath. "Well, we'd better see what he wanted before he dies on us. Let's get him to Sickbay. "

In Sickbay, Nova had called Derek, who came below maybe ten minutes later. The Marine guards let the Admiral in as he walked towards the main examining table, where Nova was looking over some scans.

"It looks like he became very ill in flight up here," whispered Nova. "I don't have any idea what could have made him deteriorate like that…and so quickly…I did all I could to stabilize him…but…we're still losing him."

"I wish we could figure it out," said Derek. "Lianas of Beemira. I am Admiral Derek Wildstar. What made you risk your life like that?"

"The Queen asked me to come and see you," said the old Beemiran. "But, even then…you are the famous defender of the Peace of the Universe…but you have Death in your midst on this very ship. Be careful or it will destroy you. Those were the visions I had. I had the last while flying here. That is what killed me. But I had to tell someone…"

"Tell us what?" said Derek.

"You have in your midst Life, your last weapon, and final weapon is Life. But Death is in your midst. I must warn you, beware of the man you call…"

Then, he gasped. Nova looked at the scanners. "Derek, his circulatory system is giving out!"

"Who is this man?" said Admiral Wildstar. "_Who is this man_?"

"He's not really a man," said Lianas. "He's…Darkness…a Darkness you haven't killed yet, even after thirty years. Darkness…from…beyond…the Blackeye…"

Then, Lianas stiffened and all of his vital signs went flat.

Nova shook her head and sighed as she put the sheet over the Beemiran's head. "He's gone, Derek. Time of death, 1622 Hours…"

"So…" said Admiral Wildstar as Nova wiped her eyes behind her glasses. "I wish we had a better idea what he was talking about…"

"I have a very vague sense of something…not as good as my Mother at sensing this stuff," said Star Wakefield. "But, there's bad juju around here."

"That we knew," sighed Ariel. "How bad?"

"I've been having dreams, too. Bad ones," said Star. "Real bad ones…"

**TO BE CONTINUED….**


	2. Chapter 2

**ALTERNATE TALES OF THE STAR FORCE **

**STAR BLAZERS—THE ENTROPY WARS**

**By: Frederick P. Kopetz**

With the Cooperation and Assistance of Derek A.C. Wakefield

* * *

**CHAPTER TWO: WHEELS WITHIN WHEELS**

* * *

**I.** **THE MASTER SCHEMER…**

**Planet Earth**

**The Vicinity of the Great Megalopolis**

**The Savela Estate**

**Tuesday: May 17, 2231**

**0945 Hours: Earth Standard Space-Time**

* * *

A chauffeur-driven air-limousine, a huge car all in black, pulled through the gates of the Savela Estate on Earth.

The vehicle went down a number of paths, rolling past a private landing pad on the way.

The occupant of the limo smiled to herself as she lowered a tinted window of her car to look out at three space yachts of Pellian registry that sat there. They were hers, all legitimately acquired through business activities. Or, so everyone thought.

_It has taken so many years_, she thought with glee. _I've started to show a few strands of grey hair since I started, but pulling the wool over everyone's eyes has been a nice, calm, gradual process._ _The plan is now close to succeeding. We just need..a little more time…._

The car stopped in front of a gothic-looking manor that sat in an elegantly landscaped meadow. A fountain squirted water outside, and the chaffeur and two servants stopped by the door of the car, waiting as the gullwing door lifted. Then, they assisted Mrs. Katrina Monica Invidia Savela out of her car.

The middle-aged woman's pumps clicked as she went up the driveway in her skirted suit. At the doors of her manor, two butlers held the doors open for her as she passed them with barely a nod.

In the entrance hallway, she clapped once when sitting down on a padded bench near a closet door. A servant girl came forth, and helped her exchange her pumps for house slippers.

Then, another door opened, and a man in young middle age with slightly greying hair near his ears smiled at her as she ran up. They embraced, and she whispered to him, "Hi, Foxy."

"Beautiful as always, Katrina, dear," said the man for the benefit of the servants. Kazuo Foxworth-Savela, "Katrina's" Terran husband and lover, always knew how to be discreet, having come from wealth himself. "Let's go the the piano room to discuss your latest business trip."

"My pleasure," said Katrina.

Then, another butler came forth, handing Katrina Monica a list on a small padd. "Lady, just to remind you, you do have two appointments today. One at 1130 Hours and then one at 1400. You also have a long-distance visiphone call scheduled at 1500. This party wants to help vet the contracts being renewed for her sister."

"Thank you, Baldur," said Katrina. "The first two will be easy. The third call…well, we must be delicate. She's always been a little suspicious of me, that one. Her and her damned Pellian friend. Luckily, I have enough contacts in Younger's faction in the Pellian Commonwealth that I've always been able to avoid awkward questions."

"Of course," said Baldur.

"Where is Cosmo? I want to _see_ him," snapped Invidia. "I need to know how the work is going for the Grand Experiment. New Dezaria's getting pushy about it. I want those generals off my back!"

"Dear, you _rule_ New Dezaria…in secret, of course," said Kazuo.

"Yes, but the generals are getting rather pushy…"

"You could always have them shot," suggested Kazuo.

"Come, on, dear, where is the fun in that?" laughed Katrina. Then, Katrina and Kazuo held hands as they left together. They seemed like a very refined and affectionate couple.

They were. For the most part.

One unintended wrinkle in the plans of the long-hidden Princess Invidia was that she hadn't suspected she would fall in love. Much less with an Earthling.

But, in her way, she had Kazuo well in hand.

* * *

In the music room, decorated with paintings of different alien spacecraft, "Katrina" smiled at Kazuo as she sat playing a quiet, yet menace-filled piano composition she had picked up in her travels of the galaxies.

"What is that piece again?" said Kazuo.

"_Goruba_ for piano," said "Katrina" in a soft voice. "I picked it up from our Black Nebulan friends on New Dezaria years ago. In the old palace. The new one has since been renovated."

"Princess, you are just as much of a schemer as ever. How surprised I was many years back when you told me everything on the wedding night. Such an exquisite little sneak you are, yes!"

"The rumors of my death have been…shall we say, rather exaggerated, hmm?" drawled Invidia in her low, sultry accent. Then, she laughed. "How is the General Cosmodynamics bid going?"

"We have a proxy on twelve percent of the stock straight, with dividends, and options on twenty-five percent. If we pull the options, we have thirty-seven percent."

"And control of a big piece of the Contrail Syndicate," smiled Invidia. "Plans on New Dezaria are going well. I was just seeing my contacts."

"Why not go there and run the Plan from their end in the Black Fox Nebula?"

"Dear, it is more fun being here to see what happens and to play innocent when the Earth Government eventually takes the bait and invites the forces of its own doom to occupy her own planet! By _invitation_! It will be so amusing!"

"It depends upon getting the right man in at the top in the Megalopolis."

"Yes," said Invidia. "The right puppet. How is that going?"

"Better than you'd think," said Kazuo. "Athough my friends tell me one of the Prime Ministerial candidates is an "x" factor."

"Meaning?"

"We don't know what he'll do…"

"Hmmm…," said Invidia. "We will have to be careful…"

"Yes."

* * *

**II. AT THE ACADEMY…**

**Planet Earth**

**The Vicinity of the Great Megalopolis**

**The Space Fighters' Training School**

**Monday: May 23, 2231**

**1400 Hours: Earth Standard Space-Time**

* * *

"What a long day this is," said Midshipman First Class Anastasia Trelaina Wildstar in a whisper as she stood in formation in her pinkish red and white Midshipman's uniform beside her cousin, Midshipman First Class Jessica Wakefield. "Is it ever gonna end?"

"Where's your brother Steve?" whispered Jess. She wore a gold star like all of the other females in her family.

"Playing around in his place in Delta Company with his thumb up his butt as usual," said Anastasia, who was referred to by her father (and most everyone else) as Anya. "All he's got on his brain are his scientific equations and stuff."

"How long do these graduation rehearsals last?"

"Mom told me 'centuries'. One of the few things she was ever right about," said Anya. "I could use a big bag of Astro Munchies right about now. I don't care that Ariel says they're not healthy for me. My damn sister. She's turning into a clone of Mom every day."

"What's your big trip against your Mom again?"

"Jess, you know she's a _ditz_!" hissed Anya.

"Your mother is possibly one of the smartest people on Earth, and you think she's a ditz?" whispered Jess.

"You know she is. She has to wear her glasses like half the time, and she's always tripping over things. When I was last home a few months ago and she was home, right before she went out into space again, she almost tripped over a footstool; the one she keeps in front of Dad's recliner. The great Nova Wildstar, almost done in by a dumb footstool! What a _ditzo_!"

"That's a right 'oriible way to speak of your Mum," said a refined British voice behind Anya. "Five demerits, Wildstar!"

"Uncle Clive," sighed Anya as she turned to face the tactical officer who had just written her up, namely, Captain Clive Hartcliffe, who was on TDY here at the Academy between commands.

"You cannot bloody call me that in formation, Wildstar. Number one, I'm not really yer Uncle, number two, it's bloody fraternization, and ye bloody know it. Sorry, luv. You graduate tomorrow but you have to spend tonight marchin' off your last tour."

"Give me a break, sir!" said Anya.

"Wanna add some more demerits?" said Clive.

"No, sir," said Anya.

"Than shut yer pie-hole," said Clive. He spotted another cadet laughing and said, "Guess what, Mister McCloskey, you and Mis Wildstar are havin' a date tonight on the punishment quad! Five demerits for you, too, cheeky baby! Yer a _swine_!"

* * *

Later on, it was raining while Anya, McCloskey, and some other cadets marched off their final demerits with AK-01 rifles on their shoulders. McCloskey turned towards Anya and said, "You shouldn't graduate tomorrow, Wildstar!"

"Why not?" snapped Anya waspishly as water ran off the brim of her cap.

"In our Ethics Class, you were the biggest idiot I've ever met here at the Academy. How did you ever _pass_ Ethics?"

"My final essay. I got a B-Plus on it."

"And what did you write about?"

"The logic as to why Earth should become an Empire," said Anya.

"Ohhh…_another_ one of those New Order types?"

"I am _not_ an adherent of the New Order," snapped Anya. "I just think they have some good ideas, that's all. I can't discuss this stuff at home, of course."

"Let me guess; Mom and Dad don't like your viewpoints?"

"They detest them," said Anya. "When I raised a prime argument of the New Order, that we should follow a tenet of Neo-Colonialism and force less advanced civilizations under our protection with our military force for their own good as well as for our own, Mom slapped me right across the face. So much for my great Mother being a person of peace. We've barely talked since."

"Figures," said McCloskey. "You know, I agree with some of what the New Order teaches…" said McCloskey.

"So?" said Anya.

"Maybe we should take at some point tomorrow…after we graduate?"

"If I can get away from Mom and Dad long enough, I'll buy you a beer," said Anya. "Be quiet…I hear a tac coming. We're not supposed to be talking…"

McCloskey nodded as they marched on.

* * *

**III. HOME AGAIN…**

**Planet Earth**

**The Tokyo Megalopolis**

**The Supreme Court Building**

**Tuesday: May 24, 2231**

**0920 Hours: Earth Standard Space-Time**

* * *

Nine _very_ old men and women, the youngest of them being about sixty-nine years old, sat behind the huge curved Judges' Bench of the Supreme Court of the Earth Federation beneath the huge gold Seal of Earth that was attached to the white marble wall behind them.

Today, they were hearing the case of _Aniston v. Forrester_.

This was a case that had taken years to reach this far in the legal system. The basic case and controversy was a challenge to the Digital Space Net Copyright Act of 2221, that covered the for-profit transmission of songs across the Space Net that connected the various planets of the Galactic Alliance.

The case had begun when some kid on Iscandar, searching her PC late at night, had downloaded in 2225 a song by the popular _artiste_ Aurora Forrester, from her then-new album which was known as _Life in a Space Cyclone. _This album of Aurora's was cute, boppy piano-based pop music.

Aurora's then-manager Egon Aniston had sued the Iscandarian girl involved for something like thirty million credits once he and his accountants had found out what her SIP address had been.

Aurora heard about the case and ordered her manager to settle for far less. The manager had refused, charging that this would dilute her trademark rights.

Aurora had fired her manager the next day and ordered him to stop the case and had rehired her old manager. He and his lawyers refused as a matter of principle.

This day, the lawyer up behind the podium arguing for Egon Aniston was Nigel Henley-Gordon; a British lawyer originally admitted in Westminster, Anglia, who also just happened to be the Chief Procurator, or High Criminal Prosecutor, of all of Planet Earth. Gordon was a rather self-important man of about fifty-nine, impeccably clad in a four-thousand credit pinstriped suit, simulated silk tie, men's Prada shoes, and handkerchief in one pocket.

Henley-Gordon adjusted his glasses, smoothed down his distinguished-looking beard, and continued his summation as he brandished his gold-plated pen stylus at the lawyers' podium like some kind of weapon.

In his impeccable Oxbridge upper-class accent, he said, "Ladies and gentlemen of this Court, I am here, as you know, in defense of an important canon of legal principle. The Digital Space Net Copyright Act of 2221. That Act, which I helped draft when I sat in Parliament across the great square outside in Government Centre, specificially stipulates in Article Nine, Section Two, "A Right of Action For Damages can be lodged by the manager for an artiste. Miss Forrester had signed a legal contract with Mister Aniston in late 2224. Mister Aniston was then legally Miss Forrester's manager, and he stood in the shoes of Miss Forrester…"

"Interesting considering that Miss Forrester doesn't _wear_ shoes on half her cutesy album covers," said Justice Vanessa Wellesley from the bench as she tapped her pen. "And I need to advise you that you have _one minute_ left, Counselor."

The light went off on Henley-Gordon's podium. _Damned machines give you just twenty-five bloody minutes, bloody robots._

"And so," said Chief Justice Christian Rinaldi as he played with his white,full beard above his black robe. He was now eighty. "Counselor Henley-Gordon, are you saying that the entire Digital Space Net Act states that the manager has the absolute right of action even if the artist disavows the case?"

"Of course, your _Honor_," sniffed Henley-Gordon. "At this time, Aniston was Forrester's legal representative and power of attorney, and…"

"She disavowed him, sir," said Justice Isao Hayata. "Do you deny that?"

"No..I…"

The red light went off. "Time's up," said the Chief Justice as he banged his gavel. "Yield to Miss Forrester's counsel."

"Thank you, gentlemen and ladies," said Henley-Gordon with a bow. He then turned to face his opponent as a few electronic flashes went off from the Press Gallery far above the Court and its counsel tables, podium, empty witness dock, empty prisoners' dock for the few criminal trials of original jurisdiction based upon maritime law, Space Maritime Law, and Diversity of Governments that were held here, and rows of spectators' chairs.

His opponent was a youngish-looking fifty-three year old woman who wore glasses and a cranberry-colored blazer, cream blouse, school tie, shortish grey pleated skirt that showed off her long, bare legs, and cranberry-colored pumps that matched her coat.

She winked at her younger sister Aurora through her glasses before taking the podium. Nova Wildstar, MD, at her father's urging, had started law school part-time in 2223 and had graduated and passed her Bar in 2227. She had primarly chosen to earn her second doctorate as a result of wanting to know how to defend herself in malpractice actions.

"Mrs. Wildstar, you are already sworn as attorney of record," said the Chief Justice. "In referring to your brief, you argue that the rights of the artist are more important than the rights of management?"

"That is right, sir," said Nova in her gentle voice, which sounded calm and composed compared to Henley-Gordon's rolling tones. She looked over and watched Henley-Gordon smirking at her as he went back to his defense table. _Upper class twit of the year_, thought Nova to herself. _I'm gonna win this for my sister whether you like it or not_. "There is a lot of precedent which gives an artist the right to fire their management if they feel they are beging mismanaged. One of the oldest germane precedents was in the 20th century, in _ABKCO Music, Inc. v. Harrisongs Music, Ltd_. In that case, it was decided, among other things, that a former manager of an artiste' who

later reneges on his fiduciary duties to that artiste' cannot profit by then switching sides in a lawsuit against the original artist. That ruling is germane to our current case because in our current litigation, Aniston was fired by Miss Forrester and is no longer her agent, but he still wishes to make a profit by acting as Miss Forrester's agent even though the agency relationship has long been terminated. And it must be noted repeatedly that in papers previously filed before the District Court in Colorado, Miss Forrester has given up her right of legal action in this case when she and the Iscandarian teenager involved came to an out-of-court settlement and the Iscandarian paid Miss Forrester eighteen credits and ninety-nine cents to purchase the album in question and to pay token damages of two credits towards Miss Forrester's legal fees. It must be noted that Counsel then gave the Iscandarian teenager back the two credits because she is acting on a _pro bono_ basis for Miss Forrester."

"So you allege that the case between Miss Forrester and the Iscandarian involved was settled for about eighteen credits?" asked one of the judges.

"Yes," Nova replied.

"Do you have a copy of that settlement order?" asked Chief Justice Rinaldi.

"Submitted with my brief, sir," said Nova.

The Justices conferred for a moment and then Chief Justice Rinaldi said, "We see the settlement order and the Court takes official notice of it. You may step down, Doctor Wildstar. The Court's heard enough. We will adjourn and render a decision within ninety calendar days."

Henley-Gordon stood and said, "Honorable Justices, may I submit a rebuttal?"

"No, oral argument is finished," said Rinaldi as he rapped his gavel once. "You two may leave. Clerk, call the case of _Penoyer vs. Watt_."

Nova and Nigel met outside of Court, and Henley-Gordon said, "Wildstar, that was dirty snooker in there! You never submitted that prior Judgment to me!"

"I did," Nova replied. "Back in the initial set of documents I sent you back in September along with my letter requesting that we settle this case. We could have finished this matter right then, but you rejected our settlement offer and you are costing the Iscandarian Government a lot of money."

"How is that?" said Henley-Gordon.

"They had to hire counsel for the teenage girl to represent her interests before I took the interpleader and agreed to combine the cases. Someone had to represent that girl. Her parents are just poor fishermen on Iscandar and don't have a tenth of the thirty million credits you were demanding."

"I would have settled for a tenth if we could have gotten their crystal homestead at Bailiff's Sale," sniffed Henley-Gordon. "The place would have made a fine vacation home for me on Iscandar, which ought to be under our heel anyway because hardly anyone lives there. Everyone believes that! Come on, 2199 was over thirty-two years ago!"

"You believe _that_?" snapped Nova as Derek came up behind her to nudge her away from the reporters. "_You_, sir, make me sick!"

"Come on," whispered Derek in Nova's ear. "Let's do an early lunch. Then, we have a graduation to attend…"

Nova nodded and turned away from Henley-Gordon and the reporters' questions.

* * *

In the meantime, down in one of Earth's underground cities, in an ostensibly abandoned military base, a Marine SS Lieutenant in black turned towards four men and said, "We just got this on a hidden camera system we tapped into, my Lords."

One of the men, a R'Khell agent in a red Fez known as Hagyar, said, "So, Doctor Wildstar's more involved in little petty cases rather than the big picture? Isn't that too bad, Buggnatz?"

General Buggnatz, who was now a deep-cover agent of Spectra, said, "They've always attacked the wrong people at the wrong time and the wrong target. It started twenty-three Terran years ago when we attacked their _Argo_ and they made me look stupid in return but never got the head of the Centipede. Literally. Since then, we tried terror attack after terror attack, all to no avail because of their damned counterinsurgency forces. Twenty-three years. The Luminous One has has enough of this lot. I say hit the rock with a proton missile, and blow up these infidels! They…"

"They're worth money to us as a slave world, Buggnatz, regardless how you and Zoltar feel about this bunch," said General Raeder of what remained of the Cometine House of New Dezaria. "And our Black Nebulan Empire would become so much greater soon if we are able to pull off the planned Assassination of the Grand Emperor of the Cometines and we then take control of the whole of the Comet Empire like I've wanted to for years. And I want Invidia to be one of the first ones killed."

"Lordship, what do you think?" demanded Buggnatz as he bowed towards the fourth man there, one Colonel Maples.

Maples sniffed, chuckled, and hid his face in his hands for a moment. When he finished coughing, the face of Terran Gary Maples had vanished, to be replaced by the snarling, grey-mustached visage of Ekogaru the Great. "I think we go on with the current plan, men. I almost have General Stone in my pocket. He does not know everything yet, but the time will come when I will finally expose myself to him and expose to him both the honor of working towards the New Order, and the pitfalls of working against it! Besides, we are close to having another influential person on our side."

"Whom?" demanded Hagyar. "I'll have you know, Lord Ekogaru, that Lord Piper Sandberg is growing sick of your…"

Ekogaru smiled, flipped up a sleeve of his EDF jacket, and pointed at Hagyar. Fire appeared at his fingertips, and then, a bolt of energy roared out through the air towards Hagyar's right shoulder. A moment later, Hagyar was on fire, and the remains of his amputated right arm flew back and smashed against a panel. As he screamed in agony, Buggnatz and Raeder put out the flames.

"_You_ go to _Lord_ Piper Sandberg, that scum-master traitor and leader of your so-called Jihad, minus your arm and tell him that if he wishes to lodge a protest against the Technomugar New Order, let him come and do it to _my_ face and see how _long_ he lives!" roared the Dark Lord. "Through the practice of peace shall I destroy many! No one is indispensable in the New Order! Not you, not the leadership on New Dezaria, not Invidia, not any of you, not Zoltar, and _not_ General Stone! _I_ am your Master! And never _forget_ it!"

As Hagyar whimpered in pain, Ekogaru said, "Now, that we have _that_ little unpleasantness behind us, shall we go on to _other _matters?"

* * *

**TO BE CONTINUED….**


End file.
